


Broken

by jenny_wren



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: #coulsonlives, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson is still alive and things are still broken (sequel to Break-it, angsty version)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Break-It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116602) by [jenny_wren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren). 



> This is a follow up to Break-It. I thought it stood well alone but I had a couple of queries for a sequel. Break-It was fairly open ended, mostly because I wasn't sure how things worked out. This is the extra angsty version.
> 
> This will make no sense if you don't read Break-It first (it's short, promise)

Eight years later Phil got the call that Clint had been found.

“Damn lucky you had him on record,” said the county sheriff, voice replete with self-satisfaction.

“Yes,” said Phil, voice as calm as the wide roiling ocean. “Very lucky.”

“Of course we aren’t going to get much further anyways, but at least once we got your guy’s photo people stopped playing dumb. I can’t stand it when they play dumb.”

“Indeed.”

“Course you being in law enforcement yourself you’d understand that. What agency did you say you were with again?”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Espionage and Logistics Division. A Federal agency based out of Washington.”

“Huh Federal,” the sheriff rolled the word on his tongue with a provincial’s true contempt for the government suits.

“Do you need me to send somebody out to you?”

“No, no, already seen his wife.”

“Wife?”

“Yes, now she is a fine-looking woman. I can’t imagine why your guy would run out on her.”

Phil would like the sheriff to stop referring to Clint as his guy because it was painfully obvious that Clint was not his guy anymore, and never would be again. He would also like to know who this wife was. Wait, he was being stupid again.

“She has a great accent, doesn’t she?” It was hardly the smoothest segue but Phil needed to know. And her hair color might change but Natasha’s accent never did unless she was deliberately trying to hide, and she wouldn’t be for this.

“Boy howdy does she. Red-headed little fire cracker.”

Definitely Natasha. She must have got Tony to hack the database and set up an alert if there were any hits on Clint’s profile. The sheriff couldn’t have been in any hurry to call the Feds. If Natasha had left immediately, which she would have done, she probably beat him to the punch. In fact if the Sheriff was calling now, she was undoubtedly already gone.

“She left town?”

“Sure has. Blew in and out like a whirlwind. Took your guy with her. Didn’t seem much point hanging onto him.”

“No there wouldn’t be.” Except Phil would have liked to have seen Clint one last time. That wouldn’t happen now. He’d have to speak to Natasha first and he hadn’t spoken to her for eight years. She was an Avenger just like he’d plotted and if he wanted to send her a message he could speak to her Team Leader. Phil hadn’t spoken directly to Captain America for eight years either.

The Sheriff was still talking. “Some guy called up, asking all kinds of questions.”

Phil’s spy antenna twitched. Maybe there was some Hydra involvement, no matter that it seemed unlikely.

“Some guy?” he queried.

“Yeah, a,” he could hear the rustle of pages as the Sheriff worked back through his notes, “a Marcus Johnson.”

Phil winced at the name Fury used only for the most personal business.

“You know him?”

“I knew him,” Phil said with scrupulous honesty. He hadn’t seen Nick in nearly six years. There’d been some shouting involved.

“Well he wanted to know everything. I pretty much told him. Not like it’s a state secret or anything. You Feds are always playing secret squirrel but it’s not like this was anything important.”

“No,” Phil closed his eyes, “not important at all.”

“And he seemed pretty damn determined.”

“Did Marcus say anything?” It was strange to be using Fury’s name after all this time. Nick had slammed into his office and demanded to know when Phil was going to stop ignoring him.

“I am not ignoring you.” Phil had said, not even looking up from his work.

“Oh like hell. Are you ever going to stop being angry with me?”

“I’m not angry with you.”

Nick had fallen silent and stared at Phil for a long time. “That’s the truth isn’t it, goddamnit. You’re not punishing me, you’re punishing yourself.” 

Phil didn’t say anything. That wasn’t a denial.

Nick looked at Phil for another long minute, then turned away. “I guess I’ll you around,” he said as he left.

“I guess you won’t,” Phil had said quietly, unwilling for the last words between them to be a lie.

The Sheriff was still talking away, “Did he say anything? This Marcus character said a whole hell of a lot. Think he was about ready to come out here his own self but when he heard the wife was here he said he better not.”

Phil winced at the unwanted confirmation that Fury and Natasha weren’t talking to each other either. And thinking about the timing, Nick must have his own back door into the system and was probably the reason notification had been delayed in reaching Phil.

“He agreed that your guy was in the habit of carrying large amounts of cash with him.”

“Yes he was.” Phil’s opinion on the habit was not objective. It had saved their lives on several occasions, and it was one of the reasons Clint had found it so easy to vanish. 

“Dangerous habit.”

“He could take care of himself.”

The Sheriff snorted, “If he could, I wouldn’t have his body washed up in the spring floods, would I now?”

Phil didn’t say anything. 

“Still it’s about fifty-fifty on him being rolled for his cash, or him buying it after being thrown by his horse, he liked the lively ones I’m told, and them taking the opportunity to grab his stash and stuffing the body into the canyon to avoid questions.” 

Phil blinked slowly.

The Sheriff huffed an audible shrug, “Guess we’ll never know. Unless they get picked up for something else some time. You want me to tag the file with your details so the powers that be will let you know if they do.”

“No,” Phil stared steadily ahead. “It’s not that important.”

“Alright then. You know where I am if you need anything else.”

“That will be all, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Feds.” The phone clunked off.

Phil placed his phone down carefully. He sat in his empty office for long endless minutes as the silence grew heavier and more oppressive until it seemed to solidify around him in a hard impentrable cage.

Eventually he reached out, picked up another a file, and went back to work.


End file.
